Rank: New Next Stepper
Joined: 12/2/2006(UTC)
Posts: 1
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[font="times new roman"]Finding a Home[/font] [font="times new roman"][/font] [font="times new roman"] I sit down on the cold bench and set my duffel bag beside me. It’s shiny, royal blue, brand new. I bought it at the sports store. I’ve never bought anything at the sports store before. Cautiously taking my eyes off the tiled floor in front of me, I glance around the pool deck for a familiar face. My eyes rest on Jackie, one of my brother’s best friends. I scoot closer to her and ask about her summer. She starts to tell me, but her words quickly dissolve as Coach Ertl walks onto the pool deck. I tense up. I’m not ready for this. Why am I doing this? Coach Ertl talks for what seems like hours, as I look around at the girls surrounding me. Who will I be friends with? Will anyone talk to me? My rationality capsizes, flooded with concerns, as Coach Ertl introduces the four captains and they chatter excitedly about the upcoming season.
I look away and inhale the stinging chlorine-filled air, instantly comforted as I breathe in the familiar scent. The water laps against the side of the pool, welcoming and calm but full of the unknown. I long to dive in, to linger beneath the surface of the cool water, numb to all my worries. What is taking so long? Why aren’t we in the water yet? Another coach is introduced. I wonder, will they like me? Do I have potential? I don’t want to be the worst one. Whose idea was this, anyway?
My thoughts drift ahead to November, the end of the season. If I survive, I will have worked harder than ever before. Surely I will gain physical strength, but what other benefits will I discover? On that day, it was impossible to imagine the impact the next four months would have on my life. At a time in my life when nothing seemed constant, the new home I found in the water eased my overwhelming struggle to succeed at all costs; I began to take comfort in my imperfections. Sitting on the cool metal bleachers during the first practice, I was terrified of the person I could possibly become.
Finally, girls start to stand up, and I reach for my duffel bag. My shoes clop against the tile floor as I glide into the locker room, following the crowd to pick out a locker and throw my stuff in. I quickly change into my suffocating suit, the tight elastic creating crevices in my pale skin. I wrap my towel around me to dispel the goosebumps running up my legs, but to no avail. The air feels cold, but I’m dying to immerse myself in the chilly water.
We slide into lanes, timid and careful not to splash anyone. I position myself behind Jackie, who looks slightly more confident than I do. She’s done this before. I don’t even know how to do a flip turn. I clutch the side of the pool, my eyes wandering across the lanes. I know who’s good. What are they doing? How are they holding on? What am I doing? I begin to panic, but I feel eerily calm at the same time. The water soaks into my pores, fills up all that I am. This fits, I think to myself. Even if I lose every race, the water is where I belong.
My sense of peace is quickly interrupted as Coach Ertl’s harsh voice echoes throughout the pool area: 500’s. How many lengths is that? I slip my goggles over my swim cap, adjusting them so they fit right over my eyes. Coach whistles, and the first girl is off. I can’t swim that fast. She’s so good. Why am I here? Another girl pushes off the wall in perfect streamline form. Where do my arms go? Jackie slides down to the far right corner of the pool, reaches for the wall behind her, and presses her feet up against the side. In an instant, she’s gone, leaving me alone and hoping for the best.
I line my feet up, lower my shoulders into the water. A shrill whistle fills my ears, the only sound I can hear. Pushing off, I force all of my suppressed energy into one solid movement. All thoughts of self-doubt have vanished; I have time to learn. My body relaxes, feeling light and bobbing in the water, as my arms find their rhythm and my feet flutter out of the water and back underneath the surface. I imagine my fears behind me, left in the wake of powerful legs and pulling arms. As my body glides through the water, my mind is numb to everything except my own breathing. My head rotates to the left, and I lift my mouth out of the water to gasp for air. I take a breath only out of habit, but I feel as if I have gills, breathing in the water, this frigid liquid that is somehow both sustaining and challenging me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the wall in the distance. Time to prepare for that inevitable flip turn. An arm’s length away, I throw myself into a somersault and propel my body forwards, pushing off and veering to the right. Too far to the right. My mortality suddenly becomes apparent to me. I’m not ready for this. I can’t handle this. What was I thinking? Why did I join the swim team now, in my junior year, when everybody’s been swimming since middle school? I shouldn’t be here. I close my eyes, hoping for some sense of reason, some proof that I belong here. I loath being the outsider, intruding on this world where I don’t fit, but in an instant, it all disappears again. I find myself settling back into my subconscious and letting my muscles take over. My mind is at rest again. Nothing else matters except the movements of my body in the water. [/font] [font="times new roman"] [/font] [font="times new roman"] [/font]
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